For those of you who have made it this far in your lives without going, fear not, you're not missing much. Well, that's not entirely true, you kind of are. You're missing out on spending hundreds of dollars on effectively nothing, being hungover for a week, not being able to get a cab on the street (fucking backwards savages), tons of fat people, and getting scammed by crackladies who were only able to swindle you because you were on the verge of blacking out and if, at any point, I run into her at the various crack dens I frequent, I will fucking kill. I mean it Sasha, or Trish, something like that, I will fucking kill you with my fucking fists. And since I'm one of those creative types (known in the heartland of the country as "faggots"), I'm going to do it in such a manner that when I say "fucking fists" I really mean it, they're going to be fists that fuck. You know, like fist fucking. Fisting.

Anyway, after reviewing my aforementioned list, you can plainly see that you can find most of those spellbinding attractions pretty much everywhere, except for the inability to get a cab like every other civilized place in the goddamned world. If you can't guess, last week I went to Las Vegas and it pretty obviously sucked.

I've even started calling it Las Vague-Ass when I talk about it, but since it sounds exactly the same as its real name, it's pretty much a joke only I get… which actually accounts for a vast majority of my jokes. And it's not like it even makes that much sense to me, Las Vegas is hardly vague at all, in fact, it's quite blatantly in your face about pretty much everything. The entire strip is lined with little Mexicans who flick trading cards at you with pictures of naked women with their names and a number you can call if you want to turn your fists into fucking fists for 99 dollars. So yeah, not that vague at all, but the ass part is really, really appropriate.

One night my friends and I tried to go to one of Las Vegas "premier" nightclubs (all of which suck unless you're a thirty five year old executive with a pocket full of Rohypnol), but were denied entrance because, according to the bouncer with a package of Oscar Meyer weenies cascading down the back of his neck from the base of his shaved head to the beginnings of his bacne, "there are already too many guys in there. Ladies only." It was probably for the best because the odds aren't great (odds not being great in Vague-Ass, go figure!) that of all the shitty nightclubs we had already gone to and would go on to visit this was the one in the entire godforsaken city that doesn't suck two French-braided dicks. Regardless, in a drunken rage I threw my entire collection of prostitute cards at the man, a decision I now wholeheartedly regret, and said, "Fuck you, Kingpin, you'll be in Vegas the rest of your shitty life." Incredibly the bouncer didn't break my legs on the spot and I made it home to write about how much I hate that fucking place.

Las Vegas sucks almost as much as when the similarly named Vega would win in Street Fighter II on Sega Genesis and his shrill battle cry afterwards would pierce you through your head. When playing as him I'd purposefully lose just so I wouldn't have to endure what sounded like a train whistle blowing through a dying cat's ass inside a paper bag. I know it doesn't make a lot of sense to play as a character only to lose, but I had a lot of free time as a child, not to mention I hated Vega that much, and, if I could play as Las Vegas, you can bet I'd let myself get myself get the crap kicked out of me over and over again too.